


Bloody Stupid

by TheGoodDoctor



Series: Group Targets [5]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 18:24:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8220572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoodDoctor/pseuds/TheGoodDoctor
Summary: Q doesn't like his new partner, honest.





	

Bill insists on dropping Q off right outside the dance studio. “It's no trouble,” he says.

“It's no trouble for me to walk, either,” Q says crossly.

Bill rolls his eyes and engages the handbrake. “Yeah, yeah. Have fun on your first day at school, make loads of friends-”

Q sighs deeply and opens the car door. “Go away, Bill. I'm not being childish.”

“No, of course not. I'll pick you up at three, right?”

“Yes. _Bye_ ,” he says irritably and tries to ignore Bill’s laughter as he stalks through the main doors of the studio.

Eve looks up from her stretches, one leg extended up past her shoulder and foot beautifully pointed. “Try and tone down the excitement, yeah? Don't want to strain anything.”

He flips her off with a glare and tugs off his hoodie to join her at the barre. Shortly, Gareth joins them silently as they extend and flex. In the mirror Q notes a new arrival in the studio. He slouches against the far wall and makes no move to approach them. If Q had to guess, he would say a military man, with the short hair and defined muscles, which were not distracting. At all. He tries his best to ignore him.

When the warmups are done they turn to Mallory. “I know the show’s only in a few weeks, but I want to do some new dances as well. As you know, Alex has gone on paternity leave until after the show, so I've found a new dancer. Meet James.”

Q turns to the man, startled. He detaches himself from the wall to saunter over with a lazy smile. “Hi,” he says, smoothly. Q feels uncomfortable in his skin and chooses to interpret this as irritation.

“This is Eve and Q. You'll be dancing with Q - you know the choreo, I presume?”

James nods. “Sure.”

Gareth nods and sends them a brief, tight smile. “Right. Good.” He and Eve cross to the other side of the studio to discuss their dance.

Q folds his arms and glares at James, who just grins. “What's the dance, then?”

The man shrugs loosely. “I don't know. I have the sheet, though.”

Q’s mouth falls open. “Are you serious? The show is in three weeks. It's your first day. Do you care at all about a first impression?”

James grins and Q’s mouth snaps shut, cheeks flushing with annoyance and making him even more annoyed than before. “You'll have to keep me in line, then,” he says, making it sound deliciously dirty.

“An impossible task, I'm sure.” Q manages. James just raises an eyebrow.

* * *

Three o'clock comes and Q is too angry to say goodbye to his friends or berate Bill for waiting outside like a pushy parent. He simply opens the door, launches himself in and slams it behind him. “Drive,” he snaps.

“Ooh,” Bill says as he indicates and pulls sedately away from the curb. “Do I have to _follow that car_ , too? Are we on the run? I don’t know, I leave you alone for a matter of hours and suddenly we're Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.”

Q glares at Bill’s bland smile. “Shut up.”

Bill glares back, face changing suddenly. “No. I drive you places as a favour, because we're friends. I'm not your goddamn chauffeur, you don't get to snap at me, and you don't slam the door of _my_ car.”

Q sits back in his seat, chastened. “Sorry,” he mutters, “bad day.”

“Yeah, well, you're not the only one. Want to talk about it?”

“New partner. We don't get on.” Q frowns out of the window as the city whizzes past.

“Sounds like an understatement, if ever there was one.” Bill sends Q a smile, which the younger man reluctantly but genuinely returns. “Don't be too strong too early, yeah?”

Bill parks neatly and fishes his key out of his coat. Inside, Q heads straight to the kitchen and puts the kettle on. He manages to keep his counsel until they both have tea and are settled at the table. Bill looks at him expectantly and the dam breaks.

“He's infuriating! He has no respect and he didn't learn the choreo, like he should have, and I hate his stupid face.”

Bill is visibly pushing down a grin. “What's his name?”

Q drops his head to the table. “Blight upon my existence. _James_. What a stupid name. He has a stupid face. I hate him.”

Bill sips his tea and nods seriously. “Glad to see we're being mature about this.”

* * *

“Morning, Eve!”

“Hi Bill,” she beams. “You look less banker-y than usual. Finally thrown in the towel to follow your dreams of becoming a ballerina?”

Obediently Bill holds one arm above his head and twirls in his jeans and knit jumper. “You wish; I'd be the prettiest ballerina ever to grace the stage. No, today is the day good little bankers get a day off.”

“Fancy watching rehearsals?” Gareth says. “Could use audience feedback.”

Bill shrugs. “Sure.”

They wander into the studio, where James is already warming up. His muscles are displayed to their very best under the mirrored morning light, stretched elegantly to their limits. Bill catches Q swallow hard and smiles to himself. James notices them and relaxes. “Hello.”

“I'm Bill, I've come to watch. You must be the blight on Q’s existence.”

James nods with a smile. “I try. Nice to meet you, Bill.”

* * *

Gareth wraps his hands around Eve’s waist and lifts her easily. She bends her back, curving into a backwards C over his head. “I think James likes Q,” she says.

Gareth frowns. “Really? I thought they couldn't stand each other.”

Bill nods. “They can't. It's like Pride and Prejudice, really; proper communication would ruin the narrative but make everyone's lives much easier.”

“Narrative?” Eve snorts, landing gently and spinning under Gareth’s arm.

“It could cut at least three chapters of angst,” he says, seriously, and Gareth grins.

“Blight on his existence?” he queries.

“Direct quote. Also described as having both a stupid name and face.”

Eve laughs, snapping the other pair out of their argument on foot placement. “Ears burning, boys?” she says merrily.

* * *

“Of course I know what I'm doing,” James snaps. “I am a professional.”

Q snorts derisively. “You're the least professional person I have ever had the misfortune to meet.”

James sighs. “Trust me, all right?”

Q purses his lips and makes an effort to relax his body, placing long, tapered fingers on James’ shoulders reluctantly. James nods with an aggrieved, false smile and grabs Q’s hips.

He barely has a moment to determinedly not enjoy the sensation, however, because he is flying into the air; fast, too fast, much too fast. Uncontrollably he continues his arc and James’ hands lose their grip just at the peak of his flight.

Next thing Q knows there is no air in his lungs and his cheek is pressed into the floor. He sucks in a breath, then another. Disconnected parts of his brain note different things: Bill shouting, Eve’s fingers fluttering against his hair, Gareth speaking agitatedly, how grateful he is to not be wearing his glasses right now.

He opens his eyes and sees the offending eyewear before him. He tugs them towards him and back onto his face. Thankfully, they are undamaged. He starts to push himself up.

Four voices snap at him to lie down instantly. Q does.

Gareth appears to be calling an ambulance while Eve strokes his hair lightly and makes comforting noises that are more help than Q would like to admit. Bill is yelling at James with everything in him.

“It was an accident!” James says, holding his hands out in surrender, as if the barrier will stop Bill. Q knows it won't.

“ _It_ _was bloody stupid!_ ” Bill screams.

“How are you feeling?” Eve says, kneeling by his head. Gareth crouches on his haunches next to her, frowning in concern at him.

Q takes a deep breath in. “Not bad,” he wheezes. “Winded, that's all.”

“You're getting checked out anyway,” Bill thunders, turning away from his attack on James to storm over to Q. “You are in no place to know how you are.” Q offers him a weak smile and Bill’s shoulders slump. “Dance is bloody stupid,” he mutters.

* * *

Q can't remember what he said that made James laugh properly, genuinely; only that he should quite like to do it again, and hopefully for the rest of his life.

“Bill,” he says, hurling himself onto the sofa. “I'm in love with James.”

“Well, I could have told you that,” Bill says absently, offering Q the bowl of popcorn.

Q blinks. “Okay. What should I do about it, then?”

Bill grins. “Can’t you express your feelings through the medium of interpretive dance - ow yes okay not funny - put the pillow _down_ , man, the popcorn is going _everywhere_.”

* * *

Q rolls his eyes and nods at James. “Yes, I'm sure.”

“I just -” James is unusually bashful, twisting his fingers into knots. “I don't want to drop you again.”

“You won't,” Q says. “I promise. Last time I didn't relax properly.” He takes James’ hands and places them on his hips, tugging the other man into his personal space.

James is taller than him and his breath gusts against his curls. “And I let go.”

Q tilts his head. “I trust you, James.”

He sighs. “Tell Bill it isn't my fault before you kick the bucket, yeah?”

Q has been lifted before, but never felt like this. He feels weightless, full of adrenaline. James’ hands are warm, weighting him, stopping him from drifting off. Q beams down at James, who returns it helplessly.

Q hits the ground with the grace of a bird, still very close to James and grinning. “Beautiful,” James says, and kisses him softly.

Gareth clears his throat, making Eve laugh. They grin across the studio at the pair and Q buries his head in James’ chest as it rumbles with laughter.

There is a sigh from the doorway that is somehow distinctive as Bill. The four dancers look at him as he leans on the door, arms folded, and wait for his response. He throws up his hands. “Dance is fine, I guess. But you're all bloody stupid.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I know less than nothing about dance. I'm so sorry.


End file.
